Quicksand of the Middle Distance

To what fascistic torturous command did you succumb –

become this numb and mindlessly recurring 

barely human ampersand?

To whose rebarbative insistence, threat, persistence 

did you let it go – dismembering, surrendering

your last gasps of resistance?

The quicksand of the middle distance: that’s the who-

and-what that gutted you and swallowed night 

and dawn. One glance, no chance:

you're gone.

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